


(it feels better) biting down

by cherryconke



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, Hair-pulling, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23153779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryconke/pseuds/cherryconke
Summary: “My lion,” Glenn interrupts, honeyed words mixing into the kisses he’s pressing to Dimitri’s neck, loving the low whine that reverberates through his skin there, “if you won’t fight me properly, thenfuck me."
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Glenn Fraldarius
Comments: 5
Kudos: 118





	(it feels better) biting down

“You know, you can be a little rougher with me.”

Glenn smirks up from where Dimitri has him pinned to the gritty floor of the training grounds. His smile is sharp, all teeth, until his tongue darts out to lick a stripe of sweat off of Dimitri’s cheek. Dimitri pulls back, eyes flashing through shock and confusion, finally settling on something faintly amused as he pulls himself off of Glenn, offering him a hand up before passing the training sword back to him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Dimitri’s tone is careful, measured – they’ve had this argument before, both on the training grounds and between the sheets of their bed. Over the past year, Glenn’s determined that it basically boils down to this: Dimitri, masking how terrified he is of his own strength; Glenn, wanting nothing more than for Dimitri to let go completely. 

“C’mon, my lion. How am I supposed to improve if you take it easy on me?”

Glenn shakes out his stiff left arm and turns back to Dimitri, who’s giving him that helpless look again, the one that’s a cross between _please can we not have this argument now_ and _what do you want me to say?_ He winds up deflecting with: “why don’t you practice with Felix?” 

“I _have._ I need a lancer.”

Glenn conveniently fails to mention all of his favorite things about sparring with Dimitri: the sweat dripping off both their brows as they whirl around one another, Glenn graceful and daring, Dimitri aggressively steadfast; the look that sometimes crosses Dimitri’s face when they’re in the thick of it, the same one that reminds Glenn so much of when they were young and dumb, imitating their fathers with wood weapons; the way Dimitri’s hands work down his body, soothing out all the aches and bruises when they bathe the sweat and dirt off after. 

“Sylvain, then?” Dimitri asks as he retrieves the battered training lance from where he dropped it beside Glenn, setting the butt of it on the ground.

Glenn ignores Dimitri’s question in favor of curling his fingers around his jaw, pulling him closer to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Again. And Dima…” Glenn pauses, dipping his voice down to a throaty whisper in the curve of Dimitri’s neck, “don’t go easy on me this time.”

Dimitri’s mouth quirks into an amused smile, well-accustomed to the merciless teasing Glenn has been dishing out since they were both small.

“Let’s go then.”

This round, Dimitri is more aggressive, cutting Glenn off before he can fully swing his blade, never letting up as he presses him back into a corner. Glenn knows he’s still holding back, though. He’s seen the way Dimitri can fight in battle when things are getting desperate: dirty, rough, brutal.

This is nowhere close, but Glenn still winds up pinned by Dimitri’s weight – against the wall this time, sword knocked out of his left hand, Dimitri’s knees on either side of his, hands caught up in one another’s where Dimitri presses them into the dusty, chipping brick.

Nine years away and Glenn has only spent the past few relearning the blade, training the opposite muscles in his left arm to parry and riposte. It’s not required of him – the blade he wears at his side is mostly ceremonial, a relic from a time when being the king’s knight meant defending him to the death. Now, his job mostly consists of sitting by Dimitri’s side, day-by-day, absentmindedly stroking the curve of his thigh beneath the table at council meetings, gaze distant and removed through appointments with royal retinues, parades and balls and ceremonies.

“How was that, beloved?”

Dimitri’s voice is a low purr humming in his ear, and Glenn takes a moment to press himself up on tiptoe, sucking a small, fresh bruise into an older mottled mark, reveling in the weak groan that leaves Dimitri’s lips as he bites hard enough to leave crescent-moon indentations of his teeth against his throat.

“Better, little lion.”

“Again?” Dimitri tilts his head back, out of reach of Glenn’s teeth, gesturing to where their weapons lie on the ground. 

“No.”

Glenn arches his back to grind up against Dimitri’s thigh, unable to accomplish much more than that with his arms pinned by Dimitri’s wrists, but it’s enough – enough to get Dimitri panting harshly into his ear, enough to feel the hardening line of his cock against him, enough to shift their sparring session into something different entirely. 

“Glenn–”

It didn’t take Glenn long to learn that sometimes, subtleties could be lost on his king (there had been a moment not long after Glenn returned, where he’d been perched on Dimitri’s thigh, grinding up against him fully clothed, and it had taken the actual words _undress me, I want to suck your cock_ leaving Glenn’s mouth for Dimitri to get the picture). He’d adjusted quickly, though, learned how to make his needs loud and clear and over-communicated – so he’s not left wanting, so Dimitri’s not left in the dark. 

“My lion,” Glenn interrupts, honeyed words mixing into the kisses he’s pressing to Dimitri’s neck, loving the low whine that reverberates through his skin there, “if you won’t fight me properly, then _fuck me.”_

 _“G–Glenn–”_ Dimitri bites into his neck, and the friction and the heat from his mouth is so good he’s already half-hard, rocking up as Dimitri pulls his hands free and hoists him further up the wall. Glenn locks his ankles around Dimitri’s back and digs his heels in; Dimitri starts to press kisses, deep and gentle, to the skin of his neck.

“Yeah, love? Will you take me apart? Right here, where anyone could walk in?” This pulls a particularly loud moan from Dimitri, which: _oh._ Glenn files it away for later as something to explore – he’s bluffing anyways, had locked the doors on their way in, fully aware of where this would probably end up. Glenn noses into the sensitive skin by Dimitri’s ear, “What would they say, seeing the king fuck his knight like this?”

At this point, none of the castle’s staff would be too surprised. Ever since Glenn had returned to Dimitri’s side (after nine years of everyone believing he was dead, which had been _very_ fun to explain over and over), everyone had quickly learned to _knock_ loud and clear before opening a closed door. It wasn’t acknowledged, the relationship between the king and his stoic knight, but everyone knew.

They’d been nearly caught fucking all over by this point, Glenn shushing Dimitri’s weak protests of _it’s not proper_ and _what if someone sees_ by swallowing his cock down his throat and winding his hand through shaggy blonde hair and riding him until they’re both covered in sweat and come – in his quarters, in the throne room, in hidden alcoves and around corners.

Nine years apart reduced them both down to desperation. It had taken months for them to get to a point where being together wasn’t accompanied with the feeling that it’d be the last time they’d see each other (Glenn remembers the first night they spent together in Dimitri’s chambers, the heartbreak on his king’s face when he’d moved to go to the washroom, silently begging him not to leave). Even a year after pulling Dimitri from the ravine, bloodied and broken, they’re both still healing, both still so starved for each other’s touch.

“Dima.” The attention to his neck, lovely as it is, is starting to get a little overwhelming. He’s hypersensitive from not being touched nearly enough, the roll of their bodies together not even coming close to being enough friction to satisfy.

“What do you need?” Dimitri’s voice is soft, his earnestness cutting through Glenn sharper than any blade. 

“You,” he pauses to twine his hands around Dimitri’s neck, “inside of me,” and Dimitri just groans weakly at this as Glenn teethes roughly beneath his chin, “please, Dima,” pressing lingering kisses in a path towards his lips, catching them with his own, soft and wet and perfect, “don’t make me _beg.”_

“I’ve got you,” Dimitri’s voice rumbles through Glenn’s chest, arms crushing him tight against his body. The pressure of the wall against his back is replaced with soft layers of fur, Dimitri spreading him out across his cape, left in a folded pile before their sparring session and snapped out quickly. Dimitri’s hands move to undress him, slow and methodical, while Glenn sits halfway up to tangle his fingers through Dimitri’s hair and smear sloppy kisses across his neck, fumbling with the buttons on his loose linen shirt. 

Dimitri takes his time, moving agonizingly slow as Glenn’s fingers skirt up and over his arms and shoulders, hand fitting in the curve of his neck, thumb pressing down briefly before releasing. Slow and sweet is good, it’s _great,_ but not what he needs right now. 

“C’mon, little lion, can’t you see how much I need you?”

A flash of something – doubt, disbelief – flickers across Dimitri’s face. Glenn is just quick enough to catch it. They’ve had this discussion what feels like a million times over, ever since Glenn returned: Dimitri, unbelieving that he’s worthy of anything; Glenn, desperately trying to convince him otherwise.

“Here,” Glenn murmurs, slipping his hand to cover Dimitri’s, pulls it down to palm over where he’s hard and straining. “Let me show you.”

Dimitri groans, grinds his heel up into Glenn with just the right amount of pressure to make him cry out softly. He tangles his fingers through Dimitri’s half-ponytail and busies himself with sucking another bruise over the starburst scar that cuts across Dimitri’s shoulder, swirling his tongue over the raised mark.

“Yeah, like that.” Glenn urges Dimitri on as he pushes off the rest of his clothes and swipes up a bit of precum from where it’s already pooled on his stomach, fingers dipping low to circle and slowly push inside. His body clenches, then relaxes almost immediately, going slack under Dimitri’s hands as they pant breathlessly into each other’s mouths, rocking his hips back down onto his fingers, craving more.

The stretch is good, _so_ good, but Glenn needs more, the insistent fire simmering beneath his skin threatening to burn him from the inside out if he doesn’t get relief. He swings his arm out to where his own cloak lies crumpled on the ground, bright Blaiddyd blue, fumbling for the inside pocket. Dimitri watches, pupil sparking to a pinprick when his fingers finally close around a small bottle of oil and he pulls it out. 

Glenn hands it over wordlessly, still stroking through Dimitri’s hair. It’s one of his favorite things about him, bright blonde, shaggy where he’s let it grow out. So much has changed, and yet his hair is the same as Glenn always remembered it, shiny and soft. It falls in Dimitri’s face and over his eyepatch as he focuses on uncorking the bottle and drizzles it over both their cocks, his fingers, the crease of Glenn’s hip. Glenn tucks a loose lock behind Dimitri’s ear, a force of fond habit. 

“Are you sure?” Dimitri’s voice is all syrupy sweet, drizzling into his ear, even as his fingers tease again, featherlight touches that have Glenn squirming for more. “You want it rough?”

Fuck, if that doesn’t do things to him – his muscles spasm, dick drooling more precum than he thought possible at Dimitri’s question. Glenn brings his hands up to cup Dimitri’s cheeks, knocking his nose into his. “Yes. Yes, yes–” he chokes on his words when Dimitri wraps his hands around his waist and lifts him up like he weighs nothing at all, turning them both around so that Glenn’s on his forearms and knees, Dimitri behind him, his hand skirting up his flank to caress the curve of his ass. 

_“F-fuck, Dima,”_ he groans as oiled fingers slip back inside him, two this time, all the way to the knuckle, and curl up to hit that perfect spot. His own cock hangs, heavy and untouched, between his legs, fingers twisting into fur for leverage as Dimitri starts to fuck him with two fingers. 

“Goddess, you’re perfect,” Dimitri murmurs into the sharp jut of his shoulder blade, sliding his cock against the side of Glenn’s hip, rutting into the friction there while his fingers curl and stretch. “So sweet for me.” Glenn knows he looks like an absolute mess when he manages to lift his head, drool pooling down his chin as he cranes his neck back to look at Dimitri. He’s got this determined look on his face, one hand wrapped around Glenn’s waist, the other still stroking, working hard to pleasure him. Glenn lets his hips fall back, Dimitri holding him up easily, oil trailing to mix with the slick precum leaking steadily from his dick. 

This, _this_ is what he needs – the perfect alternative to fighting out the nervous energy that thrums through his body with prickly heat, itching beneath his fingertips through meeting after meeting as he sits to Dimitri’s right, the perfect image of the stoic knight everyone remembered from a decade ago. The need to be touched, surrounded, filled, is a persistent presence under his unflappable surface – it always has been, heightened by the heady rush of need whenever Dimitri is around. 

Glenn whimpers, a barely-there _harder,_ into his forearm. Dimitri’s eye snaps up to lock on his, taking in the blush flooding to the tips of his ears, the trickles of spit from either corner of his mouth. He hisses out a deep, low _fuck, Glenn,_ pushes his fingers further inside, fists his other hand around the base of Glenn’s ponytail, and _pulls._

That, combined with the curl of Dimitri’s fingers, the rough, bitten-off moans ghosting hot over Glenn’s back, is enough to make him come. It’s sudden, near-violent, moans fragmenting into a series of sharp cries he attempts (and fails) to muffle into his forearm, making a mess of Dimitri’s cloak beneath them. His dick twitches as heat floods through him, tingling all the way from his toes through his scarred shoulder. 

When Glenn comes back to himself, Dimitri’s turned him over on his back, away from the mess, stroking up and down his sides, pressing gentle kisses to the curve of his neck. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes–” Glenn loops his arms around Dimitri’s neck, tugging him down for another kiss, “–yes, that was so good, Dima–” he’s cut off by Dimitri shifting him into his lap, the thick line of his cock pressing snugly up beneath his balls. He’s learned that Dimitri thrives off of praise and feedback, silently craves to be told what exactly Glenn liked each time – whether they’re fucking rough and hard on the ground like this, or Glenn’s riding him slow and sleepy in the comfort of Dimitri’s bed. 

“You liked that?” The expression on Dimitri’s face is a little more confident, a small smile peeking through. Glenn huffs a laugh into his neck, grinds experimentally down onto him, his mind still hazy with lust, cock sensitive but still half-hard, trapped between their bodies. He loves Dimitri like this, reassured by every breathy sigh Glenn gives him, eager to make him feel good, to take him apart and fit him back together.

“Yeah.” He pauses, shifts his hips up, reaching behind him to line Dimitri’s cock up. “How could you tell?”

His sharp smile falls away into an open-mouthed groan when Dimitri’s hand finds its way back towards the end of his ponytail, fingers weaving through to give another experimental tug. Glenn bears down in retaliation, the blunt pressure of Dimitri’s cock the perfect burn against his hole, but then Dimitri’s gripping his hips in place, unfairly strong as he easily holds him up, expression soft and concerned. “Glenn– are you–”

 _“Yes,_ love, I’m sure, c’mon,” Glenn whines, heat coursing through him as Dimitri acquieses and slowly lowers him down into his lap. Their lips gravitate towards each other’s, drawn like bees to honey, wrapped up in deep, slow kisses until Glenn’s lightheaded and completely out of breath. 

He’s so full, almost overwhelmingly so, pulsing weakly around the sheer width of Dimitri’s cock. Glenn lets his forehead fall forward onto Dimitri’s broad shoulder, short staccato moans pressed into the scarred skin there. 

“Yeah, like that, _like that–''_ Glenn moans, a little too loud, as Dimitri starts pushing the tip in and out shallowly, his hand still anchored firmly around his waist, the other tugging gently through the ends of his hair. 

“Harder?” Dimitri asks into the bare, exposed skin at the back of Glenn’s neck.

“Yes, yes–”

And then Dimitri’s hands grip a little firmer and pull his hair a little harder. All coherent thought dissolves into sparks of pleasure edged with pain when Dimitri speeds up, bouncing him in his lap, the stretch deliciously good. Glenn goes lax in his hands, each tug of his ponytail reducing him further into a mewling mess against Dimitri’s shoulder, arms looped around his neck where he holds on. 

Where he’s loud, Dimitri’s quiet – he always is, all cut-off moans and sharp pants and the occasional soft growl when he fucks Glenn, like he’s trying not to let anything slip through the careful, kingly facade he wears day after day.

“You like this?” Dimitri’s voice comes out quiet and calm, barely strained, like he isn’t holding him up and fucking him with deep, long strokes– which, in and of itself, is _so_ stupidly hot. 

“Yes, yes, _yes–”_

“Tell me.”

Glenn pulls back, knocks his forehead against Dimitri’s and pants into his half-open mouth, teeth catching, lips sliding in a rough approximation of a kiss, mouths smearing messy and hot. “I love you,” he starts off, punctuated by a particularly loud moan as the tip of Dimitri’s cock hits up into his prostate, vision dimming around the edges with pleasure. “Deep inside me,” and he’s moving his hand down to ghost over his own stomach, rubbing teasing fingers over the head of his own dick, hard and leaking between them. “I can feel you everywhere,” he murmurs before latching his teeth around Dimitri’s lower lip, pulling a rough groan from low in his throat as he tugs, not quite hard enough to draw blood. “I’m all yours, little lion.”

“All mine.” Dimitri’s voice is rough, laden with affection and wonder, as if he’s tasting the words on his tongue for the first time.

(It’s far from the first. Glenn has belonged to Dimitri since birth, first as his protector and then as his ghost and now as his lover. He’d do anything for him, that much is clear in the way his fingertips move, burnt and scarred and crooked, down Dimitri’s back, dripping lustful starbursts of love into every touch. And even though Dimitri isn’t _his_ in name or title or any official capacity, he is, he is, he _is_ – evident in the way his blue eye softens when Glenn carefully peels the heavy mantle of his cape from his shoulders each night, strips away _King of Faerghus_ and replaces it with _my love, my lion, my heart.)_

Dimitri’s gaze is hazy with lust, pupil blown black and wide to nearly eclipse the icy-bright ring of blue, when Glenn looks into his eyes and nods, desperate tears starting to prick at the corners of his eyes. “H-hard as you can–”

Dimitri hooks his chin over his shoulder, sheltering him in his arms, nudging his nose into the curve of where his neck meets his spine and _thrusts,_ so hard and deep Glenn can barely feel where he ends and Dimitri begins. Their movements get messier as they both get closer, Dimitri’s cock filling him up, Glenn’s mind floating hazy in the constant stream of pleasure, unable to do much more than just hold on and let Dimitri take him. 

“P-please, Dima, Dima, fuck, I need–” Glenn’s voice shatters into a high whine punctuated by soft sobs, overwhelmed and overstimulated and loving every minute of it when Dimitri grinds deep into him, so full he can’t even think, nails scrabbling long pink stripes into the scars of Dimitri’s back. 

“I– I can’t–” _can’t last very long,_ he wants to say, but he’s cut off by his own strangled cry when Dimitri grips his hips hard and holds him there. 

“Look at you, my beloved,” Dimitri murmurs, tugging at Glenn’s hair to tip his head back. He goes easily, the only thing anchoring him to reality the sharp gaze of Dimitri’s eye, lustful and lovely. “I wish you could see yourself. You’re so beautiful, so sweet, spread out like this, all mine.” 

Shivers rip through his body at Dimitri’s words, his fingers curling around the head of his own cock, faintly registering the slow leak of tears from the corners of his eyes, rasping out, “I’m going to–”

“Come for me, my heart.”

And he does, like Dimitri’s words are just royal commands and he’s helpless to obey, slurring out a barely-coherent _Dima,_ hips fluttering as he makes a mess over both of their stomachs, chest heaving violently with exertion. Dimitri holds him through the shakes that come after, muscles twitching and trembling as he collapses against his front. His fingers unlace from his ponytail, smoothing out the tangles there, kisses ghosting across the top of his head. 

They sit there for a few moments, heavy breaths mingling in the dusty air. Dimitri’s still hard inside him, still stretching him out. Glenn lets his eyelids flutter shut, hazy and glassy and fucked out, his body exhausted all at once. 

“Are you alright, love?” Dimitri’s fingers map the bruises across his chest and neck gently, reverently. “You went away, for a little while.”

“Mm,” he sighs, whimpers as Dimitri slowly strokes his sides, thumbs rubbing soft into the curve of his spine, shifting the tiniest bit inside of him. “Come inside?”

Dimitri pulls out halfway, pushes back in, his pace slow and gentle compared to how hard he’d fucked him just a few moments ago. Glenn nods, his body going completely pliant, mind drifting away to empty bliss as Dimitri uses him, murmuring surprisingly gentle words into his neck, things like _my beloved, my heart, Glenn, you’re all mine, mine, mine,_ until Glenn feels him pulse hard and clenches down in response, his cum hot when it fills him up. 

Dimitri holds him tight – he always does after sex, clinging onto Glenn like he could disappear at any moment – and strokes his hand through sweaty, dark hair. After a moment, Glenn lets himself be rearranged so that he’s sprawled out across Dimitri’s chest, nosing clumsy kisses across the bite marks and bruises blooming into existence there. They’re both sticky, skin still slick with sweat, Dimitri’s cum slowly trickling down his thigh.

“Was that alright?” Dimitri asks, quietly tracing circular patterns into the small of Glenn’s back, scratching lightly with his fingernails.

“Mm. Yeah.” Glenn bites down into his collarbone gently, licks over the indentations immediately after, savoring the sharp inhale from Dimitri. “It was good. You’re so good to me, Dima.” 

Dimitri sits up halfway, pulling Glenn along with him. His smile is small, his expression hopeful, even as he kisses along Glenn’s brow bone, over the twisted scars that cut into his eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Glenn nods, shifting back so that they’re nose-to-nose, his hair a dark curtain around them. Torchlight flickers across the scars and burns on Dimitri’s face, dancing in the hollowed-out socket of his eye. Glenn skirts his thumb over it, past the pebbled skin there, long-healed but still raw. A reminder of how far they’ve come; of how far they still have to go.

“Yeah.” 

They’re quiet in the sweetness of each other until Dimitri nudges his chin to the side to capture his lips in a languid kiss, slow and saccharine. He tastes like sweat and spit and summer. “I love you.”

Glenn relaxes down into Dimitri’s touch, the circle of his fingers on his hip bone and up his ribcage soothing, almost putting him to sleep. He hums in response, runs his fingers through damp blonde hair, presses a soft kiss to the corner of Dimitri’s mouth.

“And I love you, little lion.”

**Author's Note:**

> oops, got dmgl on the brain again!!! this fic is for [casey,](%E2%80%9C) who sold me on this ship initially and now there’s no turning back for me!!!
> 
> (ty [kamu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/postfixrevolution/pseuds/postfixrevolution) for beta-ing!)
> 
> hmu [@cherryconke](https://twitter.com/cherryconke)


End file.
